


You Are The Snow

by beecakes



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Bank Robbery, Before Prologue, Fluff and Angst, M/M, North Yankton, Sad, snowstorm, tiny bit of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-02-12 19:44:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2122395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beecakes/pseuds/beecakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trevor and Michael's car breaks down in a snow-storm.  It leads to conversation, arguing and crying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are The Snow

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys, i wrote this at 4am whilst listening to a certain verse in the song Blood Bank by Bon Iver.
> 
> kudos, bookmark, comment, whatever! tell me what you think, i love feedback, good or bad. thank you all!
> 
> EDIT: So I decided to fix this up a lil. I'm not sure if my writing's improved any, but I enjoy doing it so blah. Enjoy, if possible. Thank u :)

 

 

"They’re gone, bro!" Trevor shouted excitedly, peering into the car’s mirror. There was no sight of anyone tailing them, and all that could be seen was the slushy road barely illuminated by the bust-up streetlights.

"D’ya hear me? We lost ‘em!" He repeated, that time even louder.

"Yeah, I don’t know yet. Shut up, T. Let me focus." Michael replied, gritting his teeth and gripping the steering wheel. Trevor’s smile faded as looked at Michael. He shook his head and looked back to the road as he sighed loudly. Michael rolled his eyes.

"What now?" Michael asked - emitting that tired phrase from his mouth - with a more tired expression on his face.

"You know you’d think you’d lighten up a bit, for being around twenty grand richer." Trevor snapped.

"Yeah I’m fuckin’ delirious! I fuckin’ love risking my life for this shit!" Michael shouted back, just as quickly. Trevor glared at him from across the car.

"Look, I need to focus on the road; the cops could turn out of any of these streets. I don’t know this fuckin’ town." Michael added in a quieter, softer tone.

"Elwin. This town’s called Elwin, isn’t it?" Trevor asked.

"Yeah, that’s it." Michael glanced at Trevor and nodded.

"Well, Elwin’s only bank’s gone outta business baby!" Trevor cackled, grinning manically.

 

Michael couldn't help but smile back slightly.

He liked seeing Trevor happy - but that shit wasn't what he’d call making him happy. It wasn't that twenty thousand didn’t seem like _much_ to him, it just didn't seem enough. He wanted more, he _needed_ more.

Twenty thousand was just enough to keep him and Amanda living in trailers. It was just enough to pay for all the diapers and baby food. It was just enough for the cost of living.

But living, really? Raising his children with the money that he'd stolen. Was that living? Always on the run, from town to town - leaving Amanda by herself. Was that living?

He was trailer trash, he always was. And trailer trash like him would never make an honest, decent living. It was all lies upon lies upon lies, bullshit spewing from every orifice of his life - every crack in the foundation of that trailer.

But the money was _good._ The money was just a temporary, nearly-stable,  _good_ in his life. And he could cling onto that for a bit longer.

 

"Okay, we’re way out of Elwin now. No way the cops are still after us. We’re good." Michael stated.

"We’re fucking great." Trevor agreed, clapping his hands together.

"Well I wouldn't say _great_ , this car’s sure taken a fuckin’ beating." Michael said. "Cop car fucking rammed into the side of it." He continued, aggravated slightly.

"Don’t be such a pessimist." Trevor groaned, lolling his head around and looking up at the roof of the car. 

"I’m a realist, not a pessimist. There’s a difference." Michael replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah whatever, dickhead." Trevor sneered.

"So, where we going? We’re not gonna blast all the money on strippers again are we, Mikey?" Trevor laughed. Michael’s eye twitched.

"You remember what happened last time." Trevor then added quietly, his voice a playful taunt - but Michael found those words bitter, even for him.

"Can we just not, right now? T?" Michael said.

Trevor raised his hands in innocence.

Michael knew he was talking about how he got with Amanda. Trevor claimed she was an evil bitch raised in a strip club who was trying to steal Michael away from him, Michael called him deluded.

 

Trevor knew that Amanda wasn't at fault, he truly did - but he just got so god damn _angry_ , he couldn't help it. It was his Michael, his running buddy. And the cold, killing _bastard_ was going doe-eyed for this chick? It aggravated him beyond measure, and Michael knew this. Michael rarely invited T over to the trailer anymore.

 

Suddenly the car made coughing and spluttering noises, and it stalled. Trevor looked at Michael. Michael turned the key in the ignition again, restarting the car.

"The fuck…" He mumbled. He drove forward a few meters, but the car was going slowly. Suddenly a loud bang was heard from the engine, the noise similar to a gunshot.

"What’s happened? Backfired?" Trevor asked.

"Fuckin’ engine’s fucked, T." Michael replied, trying the key a few more times.

"Well go out and see then, you lazy ass!" Trevor groaned. Michael obliged, sighing, stepping out of the car and shutting the door again.

He sharply inhaled, the cold hit him fast. He walked over to the front and pulled up the hood. He choked on the smoke that escaped and quickly turned away. He then looked closer to inspect the damage, but he didn’t understand the parts. He only knew how to drive cars, not fucking doctor them. All he knew was that there probably wasn't meant to be liquid everywhere and scraps of metal sticking out at weird angles. He slammed it shut and walked back into the car angrily.

Trevor remained silent, looking at Michael’s face as he frowned and fumbled with the keys.

"This ain’t gonna work, T. We’re fucking stuck." Michael said, his stomach dropping. His eyes met with Trevor’s. Trevor looked at him expectantly.

"What?" Michael asked, sounding pissed off.

"Nothing." Trevor replied monotonously, looking back to the road.

"You’re not gonna do anything?" Michael asked.

"I don't know." Trevor said, looking out onto the long road. He watched the snowflakes fall fast and heavily. There were no streetlights here now, the dull headlights of the car were the only things letting them see. Michael grumbled, pulling out his cell phone.

 

"Great. Lest’s not answering his phone. No fuckin’ tech god to help us out of this situation." Michael grumbled after a few minutes of waiting. Trevor looked back towards Michael.

"Call a pick-up truck." He reasoned.

"How am I gonna explain how the car got fucked?" Michael narrowed his eyes.

"We got hit by a car. They drove away. We’re stuck here. Jesus, it’s not that hard Mikey." Trevor replied, his voice rising. Michael sighed again.

"It’s our only fucking choice, dipshit! Unless you wanna walk a mile or two back in a snowstorm to the town we just fucking _robbed_?" Trevor shouted at him.

"Okay! Okay." Michael shouted back, leaning over Trevor and pulling a phonebook out of the glove box. He skimmed the pages and found a number, then he dialed it.

 

"Okay. He’s gonna be an hour at least, T. Weather’s too bad here." Michael said after a few minutes. Trevor mumbled in response, nodding his head. He then reached into the back of the car and pulled the duffel bag to the front.

"Watch what you’re doing with that." Michael said. Trevor gave him a look. Trevor fumbled through the money, feeling all the stacks with his calloused fingers. Michael was pretty sure Trevor had blood under his fingernails, but he just shook his head and looked away. Trevor grinned as he zipped the bag back up and threw it onto the backseats.

"Pretty sure that it’s around forty-two thousand. No dye-packs." He said smugly. Michael grinned back at him.

"Fuckin’ A." He replied quietly. He was _slightly_ happier that he got a thousand more than he anticipated, though the fact it wasn't in the hundreds of thousands yet plagued him.

"Yep. We’re fucking amazing!" Trevor shook Michael’s knee.

"Yep." Michael replied. Trevor’s hand was still on Michael’s knee. Michael glanced down at it just before Trevor removed it. There was a brief silence.

 

"God it’s cold." Trevor said. He didn't normally comment on the cold, being a boy from  _Up North_ , Michael would sometimes tease him - but tonight he was right, Michael thought. It was especially cold, and with the engine off and the heating fading to a slow halt - he shivered.

"Yeah." He nodded in agreement. Trevor blew hot air into his hands and rubbed them together.

"Hey, bitch. You have gloves." Trevor pointed to Michael’s hands.

"Yeah, they help me drive, so?" Michael said.

"Give me them." Trevor stated plainly, reaching over and grabbing Michael’s arms.

"T! No! They’re-" He elbowed T. "Fucking-" He shook him off of him. "Mine!" He turned and faced away like a child.

"Heat me up then, sugartits." Trevor laughed.

"What?" Michael turned around, laughing too.

"You heard me." Trevor held out his hands. Michael rolled his eyes.

"Serious?" Michael asked.

"Deadly." Trevor replied as he pulled Michael closer.

"Quick, before I get hypothermia and you steal my cut." He added. Michael grasped his hands and placed them in between his.

"Doesn't sound too bad." Michael joked.

"Shut up. Keep me warm." Trevor muttered.

 

Michael rubbed his hands together, the friction providing some warmth for himself and Trevor. They both remained silent.

Michael shut his eyes and thought. He thought about what he was doing with Trevor in general. With Lester and Brad and any of the others that tagged along with him.

He wondered why he did what he did. He knew it gave him a buzz. He felt accomplishment, you know? He  _did_  something. He  _made_  something. He felt fucking  _great_. But then it was over. 

And he went home. And Amanda shouted at him for being stupid and risking his life. And Tracey wailed loudly. And Amanda touched her recently-discovered baby bump and whispered ‘”How are we going to do this?”  And the rush was over, the achievement was quickly sinking into a deep dark pit in chest.

Sometimes in between scores, he sought solace by filling up that pit with an amber liquid, or a clear liquid, or _any_  liquid that tasted like petrol and cheap relief. 

Until Amanda would find him, grabbing the bottle, she would smash it on the floor. Michael would be enraged, standing inches taller, he would tower over Amanda. Amanda would cower away, finally seeing the man that Michael once told her about, from his childhood. His own father. Who he’d never, ever, want to be compared to.

But suddenly Tracey’s cry would pierce the air, and Michael would snap out of it - stumbling away and leaving Amanda against the wall, heart pumping hard. He would be tending to their child, whilst Amanda swept up the shards of broken glass on the floor, silent tears rolling down her reddened cheeks.

 

 

Trevor watched Michael’s breath as he exhaled through his nose, he watched it evaporate into the cool air of the car.

He looked at his dark hair and how he always looked like he was imitating some actor in those old ‘Vinewood classics’ movies he always watched. He'd probably get it cut soon. Trevor couldn't remember the last time he had his hair cut.

He noticed that Michael's stubble was growing longer and coarser.

Suddenly Michael’s blue eyes opened and looked straight into Trevor’s. Then he shut his eyes quickly again.

Trevor cocked his head to the side, wanting to see those eyes again.

The eyes that argue with him constantly. The eyes that get jobs done. The eyes that had saved Trevor, helped him, made him want more out of his life.

The eyes that display stealth, the suspicious eyes that trick people, those manipulative eyes.

Trevor leaned in closer and pressed his lips to Michael’s. Cold. Firm. Real.

Michael opened those eyes again and stared at Trevor.

‘Those eyes’ Trevor thought, pulling away.

Michael slowly took his hands away from Trevor’s. He was still looking at him, not in shock, not in disgust. In curiosity. But then he looked away, frowning. He didn’t look nice when he frowned, Trevor thought.

 

Trevor coughed loudly, just wanting Michael to say something. Anything, anything that would convince him to _not_ regret what he just did. Yet Michael didn’t move, he was still looking away.

"What?" Trevor’s hoarse voice cut through the tension in the air. Michael flinched. He looked back at Trevor in the way you’d look at someone who had dementia and was saying nonsense. With sorrow and with confusion and with sadness. And Trevor frowned immediately.

"Trevor…" Michael started.

"Don’t." Trevor rose his hand up, turning away again.

"I’m sorry, I hav-"

"I SAID DON’T." Trevor shouted, his voice cracking mid-sentence, gaining a wince from Michael.

"I know." He then added more steadily. He opened his mouth to say he knew about his wife and children, he knew that he had another life, he _knew_ all this. He didn't understand why they were so much better, and why there was always a better option than him - but he  _knew_ it anyhow. 

But no noise came out. He shut his mouth again.

"I'm sorry. I love them though, T." Michael said after a little while.

"And I fucking loved _you_ , Mikey." Trevor whispered.

"I…" Michael replied, then trailed off. Trevor looked at him with an expression that could only be disgust.

"See! You’re a fucking coward! You fucking run away from things you don’t fucking want to s-" Trevor shouted.

"T. Sto-" Michael cut in.

"NO! I’m not fucking stopping! I'm never stopping ever, I'm gonna keep going and going at you until you're broken, too!" Trevor roared.

Michael wasn't scared, but his expression looked confused and weary all the same. Trevor snapped out of it a little, turning his head to the side, losing focus. Then he turned back to Michael.

"You told me, Mikey. You told me we’d stick together." Trevor's voice came out as a whine. Michael bit his lip.

"I didn’t mean it li-"

"Oh no, of course you didn’t. You didn’t mean it like that, _you fucking didn’t mean it at all."_  Trevor spat. Silence.

 

This was what Michael couldn't bear. He hated when this happened. He hated the guilt and he hating knowing it was caused by himself. He hated seeing Trevor angry because he was sad, when he actually had a reason to be angry. _He had a reason to be angry_.

 "I do love ya, T." Michael said. Honestly? He didn’t know if he was lying or not. He lied too much to care anymore. He just hated seeing T like this and hated the guilt it brought him.

"I don’t believe you." Trevor declared.

"As a... friend." Michael continued quietly. Trevor winced.

"I hate you." Trevor whispered, looking at Michael. Michael saw Trevor's eyes glisten.

"And I do believe you." Michael said, nodding his head. Who wouldn't hate him? He hated himself.

"I hate you and I love you and I hate you for making me love you when you don’t love me." Trevor said, choking on his words.

Michael thought that by that time, love was too strong a word to be throwing around. He swallowed and exhaled slowly.

Trevor sniffed. His chest hurt, every time he breathed in the cold air it hurt his lungs as though he inhaled lethal gas. He took a few short and shallow breaths.

 

"You fucking played me, Michael." He said relatively calmly.

"I know." Michael admitted. Those times they’d fooled around in the motel rooms, those nights when they were drunk as fuck… he guessed he wanted to get his rocks off with someone. But to Trevor, it was more. Michael knew it but he pretended he didn’t.

As if Trevor read Michael’s mind he said,

"I know you turned a blind fucking eye."

"I know."

"I know that you knew."

‘I’m sorry.’

"You've said."

 Neither of them could look at each other. They looked outside. Trevor was getting cold again. His heart was missing. He wanted to be held in Michael’s arms. He was alone, again, he thought coldly as he held himself. He'd fucked it up. Maybe he shoulda kept quiet, and just let happen what would happen, but... No, he couldn't stand for that. He needed something that was reliable, trustworthy and real. If Michael couldn't give him that... he wasn't sure casual hook-ups could either.

Michael felt empty. He was consumed with guilt. He wanted a drink. He wanted none of this to have happened. He wanted to lie more, try and fix things, but he knew he shouldn't.

 

"Nobody loves me. Everybody hates me." Trevor whispered, telling the whole truth, but still wanting Michael to feel the pain he deserved.

"I told you, I do, T." Michael said quickly, looking at the fully grown man who was holding himself like a child, hiding behind his hands. Trevor sniffled.

"You’re like the fucking snow, Michael." Trevor said, his voice catching.

"Huh?" Michael asked, touching his shoulder to try and get him to look at him.

"You're the snow." He replied, finally looking at him again. Michael watched in confusion.

"You entrance whoever looks at you. You know, fill them with delight and wonder. You make people want you. You make them think you’re amazing. Then when you touch the ground, you speak the truth, and you melt into what you really are. Snowflakes are just fucking water. You’re just a slippery fucking lie."

"I know." Michael said eventually, wrapping his arms around Trevor who was then sobbing without making a noise.

 

 

The pick-up truck came later.

Michael wiped the tear-stains on the front of his jacket.

 

 

 

 


End file.
